


Invasion of the Patrick Snatcher

by Lenore



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Challenge: picfor1000, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-13
Updated: 2009-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Patrick starts acting unlike himself, Pete jumps to conclusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invasion of the Patrick Snatcher

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/picfor1000/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/picfor1000/)**picfor1000** challenge. Set in some mythical Fall Out Boy past before there were wives and babies.

Morning hates Pete, and Pete whole-heartedly returns the sentiment. He staggers blearily out of his bunk and feels his way to the lounge, because apparently his eyes have gone on strike or something. _Coffee_. This is the sum total of his working vocabulary at the moment.

Patrick sits at the table, bent over his laptop, dragging his spoon absently through a bowl of Fruit Loops, making amused noises at the screen. _Fucking chipper_, Pete thinks hostilely. He stomps over to the cabinet, grabs the coffee canister and takes a deep, long whiff. The dark roast practically singes his nostrils. Salvation.

He brews a pot, one thing he can do no matter how incapacitated he is, and Patrick still hasn't looked up from his computer.

"What?" Pete says.

"Dude, you're making me see stars—well, whole constellations, really—with your tongue."

It's possible that Pete is still asleep. Or hallucinating. Fucking Ambien.

"Huh?"

"It's my first time, and you want to make it really good for me," Patrick explains. "Although how old am I supposed to be here? I think whoever wrote this is seriously underestimating my sex life. Except, okay, she did make me way more flexible than I actually am, so there is that."

Pete blinks. "You're reading—" _Porn about us!_ "Why?"

Patrick shrugs. "You know."

Pete doesn't. He really, really doesn't.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Patrick gets to his feet, tucking the laptop under his arm.

He passes by, and Pete suddenly has a hand grabbing his ass. He startles so hard the coffee canister goes flying, sending a grainy black ribbon spilling across the counter.

"Because it's hot," Patrick says, in answer to the earlier question.

Pete stares, even after Patrick has gone. What the hell? Patrick doesn't read porn about them. He doesn't grope Pete's ass. Not even jokingly.

There's only one reasonable explanation, the way Pete sees it: That's not really Patrick!

* * *

Pete keeps the terrible secret to himself as long as he can stand it. Four whole, merciless hours.

"Somebody took Patrick!" he blurts out finally, with a rising edge of hysteria.

Andy raises an eyebrow. Joe looks questioningly over at Not!Patrick, who is curled up on a chair with a bag of Doritos.

"That person," Pete points his finger, "was reading Fall Out Boy pornfiction on the Internet and then grabbed my ass. Totally not Patrick!"

"Is this the Ambien talking?" Joe wants to know.

"Hedgehog," Pete throws out, challenging Not!Patrick.

Not!Patrick just looks at him like he's crazy.

"See!" Pete declares triumphantly. "Real!Patrick would totally know the right answer to that."

"So, you're saying—" Joe's forehead scrunches up. "What are you saying?"

"Yes, Pete," Not!Patrick says sardonically. "What are you saying?"

Pete glares at the fake. "He's— I don't know what. Just not Patrick."

"Body snatcher?" Andy suggests.

Pete shakes his head. "I checked under his bunk. No pod."

"Did you jump off something and give yourself a concussion again?" Joe asks.

"Could be some kind of Freaky Friday situation." Pete pokes Not!Patrick suspiciously. "Gabe?"

Not!Patrick just rolls his eyes.

 

* * *

Over the next week, Not!Patrick becomes even more…well, un-Patrick-like. He plasters himself to Pete's side, half sprawling on top of him, whenever they're sitting on a couch together. He puts his head on Pete's shoulder at every available opportunity and digs up more pornfiction, which he reads aloud, a scorching hot passage about Pete worshipping Patrick's thighs with his hands and then his mouth and finally his tongue. _Patrick_ actually kisses _Pete_ on stage, at three shows in a row, no less. The tables have totally been turned, and never, not once, does Pete pull away from any of these fraudulent advances, because it's pretty much every fantasy he's ever had.

Except for the part where it's not really Patrick.

 

* * *

In the end, getting what he wants, but from the wrong person, sucks way more than not getting what he wanted ever had. This is what sends Pete charging into Not!Patrick's hotel room after the next show.

"Just give him back, okay? He's my best friend, and I miss him."

Not!Patrick has the temerity to look startled. "Pete—"

"Don't fucking deny it, okay? I _know_ Patrick. I know _us_. And him wanting me, that's not— I'm the one who's all over him, and he's the one who's all: stop slobbering on me. That's just how it is. So if you're slobbering on me, you're not Patrick, and I really need Patrick back. So…yeah. Just. Please?"

Not!Patrick sits there, blinking at him "Okay, if you're being sincere here, I feel kind of shitty."

"I don't care who you are," Pete tells him. "Or how you—" He waves his hand. "I just want my Patrick back."

"Look, Pete, it was a bet with Brendon, okay? Fifty bucks if I could get you to believe—" His forehead scrunches up, just the way Real!Patrick's does when he's sorry. "Dude, I thought you'd have fun with it. You're always trying to get me to stick my hands down your pants. I didn't know you'd take it so _hard_."

Pete's eyebrows draw together. "You didn't know I'd be heartsick if I lost my Patrick?"

"Heartsick, huh?" Not!Patrick gets a speculative look.

He puts down the Macbook and gets up, and then Pete's face is in his hands. Not!Patrick's lips are warm and eager and making themselves right at home on Pete's mouth.

"See?" Pete says desperately. "Not, not—"

"Portcullis. That's what I'm supposed to say when you say 'hedgehog.'"

_Patrick!_ Relief surges in Pete's chest, for a moment, and then he frowns, seriously confused, because Real!Patrick kissing him…this does not compute.

"You don't know everything," Patrick says and then his voice gets softer. "You don't know what I want."

He kisses Pete again, all wet and filthy, and Pete grins against his lips. Probably, he is going to have kill Brendon at some point, but for now? Being punked by his friends has never been more awesome.


End file.
